My Therapy Client Is Angry His Wife Won’t Let Him Take Care of Their Son and I Was Shocked When I Found out Why — Story of the Day

As a psychologist, Kate often navigates the turbulent waters of troubled relationships. But when Colin’s case takes an unexpected twist, Kate finds herself breaking protocol and stepping into uncharted territory. What secrets lie behind Colin’s fractured family, and can Kate uncover the truth?

I was waiting for a new client, feeling a familiar curiosity and readiness. The man had mentioned over the phone that he was having some problems with his wife. As a psychologist, this was something I often encountered, so it was nothing unusual.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I glanced around my office, making sure everything was in place. The door opened, and I saw Colin, my new client. He was tall and looked a bit nervous.

“May I?” Colin asked, standing hesitantly at the door.

“Yes, of course, come in,” I said with a reassuring smile.

Colin walked in slowly, glancing around before settling on the couch opposite me. He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“So, what brings you here?” I asked, hoping to put him at ease.

“I already mentioned that I have problems with my wife,” he replied in a cold, defensive tone.

I could tell this would be a tough session. “I know, but why don’t you tell me more about it?”

Colin sighed, looking away. “She won’t let me take care of our son. She insists he’s only hers.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“And how does that make you feel?” I asked, watching his reaction closely.

“It hurts. He’s my son too,” Colin said, his voice tight with emotion.

I knew that hurt often masked deeper feelings, like anger. “Does it make you angry that you can’t spend time with your son?”

“No, I said it hurts,” he snapped, his frustration evident.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Working with men often meant navigating their reluctance to admit feelings. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Yes, but she ignores me. She says she regrets marrying me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Why do you think she says that?” I asked, trying to understand the root of their issues.

“I don’t know. She keeps saying that our son is only hers and she will never have more children with me. We just had a baby. It should have brought us closer,” Colin said, his voice filled with confusion and pain.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, so you have a newborn?” I asked, understanding more about their situation.

“Yes, he’s just a month old,” Colin replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

“I see. Some women have a hard time after childbirth and fall into a depressive phase. Could it be related?” I suggested, trying to explore all possibilities.

“No, she’s fine. She takes good care of our son,” he said, shaking his head.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“And what did you mean when you said your wife doesn’t want more children with you?” I asked, sensing a deeper issue.

“She says it’s because I’m a bad father. But she doesn’t even give me a chance to be one,” Colin said, his frustration clear.

His wife’s behavior was strange. Usually, postpartum depression causes a woman to withdraw from everyone, including the child. “I understand your feelings. Can you recall any events that led to this period in your relationship?”

“Not really. Everything was fine. Though, she has this friend, Toby. They spend a lot of time together, and at some point, I even started doubting if the child is mine,” he admitted, his voice filled with insecurity.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Are you against their communication?” I asked, trying to gauge his feelings.

“Of course, who would like their wife spending time with another man?” he said, his anger bubbling to the surface.

“Nowadays, friendships between men and women are quite common, and if there’s no hint of betrayal, I don’t think it’s worth stressing over,” I said, hoping to calm him.

“So, you think she’s cheating on me too?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“That’s not what I meant at all,” I clarified, trying to steer the conversation back to his feelings.

“I don’t know, it all seems like cheating to me,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

“Just because they communicate doesn’t mean she’s cheating,” I reiterated, but Colin seemed to ignore my words, twisting everything to fit his narrative. People often do that, living in illusions rather than facing the truth. However, I couldn’t understand what truth Colin was justifying.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I glanced at the clock above the couch and realized our session was coming to an end. “Colin, I’m afraid we need to wrap up,” I said gently.

“But I haven’t covered everything. I thought one session would be enough,” Colin said, his frustration evident.

“Many think that, but it’s rarely true. Shall I book you for another session?” I offered, knowing he needed more time.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Yes, please,” he agreed, a bit of hope in his eyes.

We scheduled our next meeting for the following week, and I saw Colin out of my office. “Take care,” I said as he left. Colin just waved goodbye, his mind clearly elsewhere.

I returned to my office and sighed heavily. Some clients drained all my energy, but I loved my job, and it was part of it. So, I sat back in my chair and prepared for the next client, ready to help them navigate their own struggles.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

A week later, Colin was due to see me again. All week, his case had lingered in my mind. I had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t telling me everything.

“Come in,” I called out when Colin knocked on my door. He entered the office, moving slowly. He sat on the couch, avoiding eye contact.

“So, how have you been?” I asked, trying to gauge his mood.

“Same as before,” he replied, sighing. “She hardly talks to me. But she was very kind when Toby, that friend I mentioned, came over.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Yes, I remember. How do you feel about that?” I asked, watching his face.

“I want to punch him,” Colin said, clenching his fists.

Anger can be useful if managed well, but I wasn’t sure Colin could handle it. “What does your wife say about it?” I asked, trying to understand more.

She says they’re just friends. But who calls just a friend to be at the birth?” he said, his voice rising

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

This was interesting. “Can you tell me more about that?” I asked, leaning forward.

“My wife went into labor, but I couldn’t take her to the hospital because my mother had an accident, and I was going to pick her up from the hospital. It was nothing serious, but she was shaken. So I told my wife to call my sister, who lives 20-25 minutes away, to take her to the hospital.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but didn’t your wife also need to go to the hospital? Why didn’t you take her and then go together to your mother?” I asked, puzzled.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Because my mother lives in a neighboring town, and the hospital was there too,” Colin explained, a bit irritated.

“I see. Please continue,” I urged him gently.

“Instead of calling my sister, she called Toby because he supposedly lives closer,” Colin continued, his jaw tightening.

“And that’s why he was at the birth?” I asked, trying to piece it together.

“Yes,” Colin confirmed, his eyes flashing with anger.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“How did you find out about it?” I asked.

“My sister also came to the hospital and recorded a video for me. I saw my wife holding Toby’s hand during contractions. When I brought my mother home, I asked my sister to FaceTime me. I saw Toby comforting my wife, doing everything a husband should do,” Colin said, his voice trembling.

“Why didn’t you go to the birth after taking your mother home?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“My mother said she felt unwell and asked me to stay,” Colin admitted, looking down.

So the mother comes first. That’s always a problem, I thought. When men put their mothers first, the marriage won’t last long. “And you decided to stay with her?” I asked, my tone neutral.

“Yes, and when I came the next day and visited my wife, she wouldn’t even let me hold our son. She said I didn’t deserve it,” Colin said, his voice cracking.

“How did you react?” I asked, giving him space to express his feelings.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“I called her a cheater for having another man at our son’s birth,” Colin said, tears forming in his eyes.

“Do you think that was a good idea?” I asked softly.

“I don’t know, but it’s the truth. And she humiliated me in front of our relatives by saying I didn’t deserve to hold our son because I didn’t take her to the hospital. I’ve apologized a thousand times, but she still won’t let me near our son,” Colin said, his voice filled with despair.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I nodded, letting Colin vent his frustrations. “I did everything for her, and she does this to me. She could have just called my sister, not Toby. Do you understand why I think she’s cheating on me? And I think that’s why she won’t let me take care of our son, because he’s not really mine,” Colin finished, his shoulders slumping.

I sat back, thinking about what Colin had shared. His pain was real, but his perception might be clouded by his anger and jealousy.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I still felt he wasn’t telling me everything. We discussed the situation again, but I still couldn’t understand why his wife called another man to the birth. Maybe it was some form of revenge for Colin not coming.

After our session ended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. For the first time in my career, I decided to break protocol. I left work, got in my car, and twenty minutes later, I stood in front of Colin’s house.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I felt nervous and unsure, knowing this was unprofessional. But I also knew I had to talk to his wife to get a better understanding.

I knocked on the door, and after a moment, a tired woman with a baby in her arms opened it. She looked at me, puzzled.

“Excuse me, are you Colin’s wife?” I asked gently.

“Yes, I’m Emily,” she replied, her brow furrowing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Nice to meet you. My name is Kate. I’m Colin’s psychologist, and I’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind,” I said, trying to put her at ease.

“Alright,” Emily replied, still looking confused. She led me to the living room, and we sat on the couch. The room was cozy, cluttered with baby items.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll get straight to the point. Colin mentioned that you won’t let him take care of your son,” I said, watching her reaction.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Well, I have my reasons. I don’t trust him, and I can’t trust him with my son,” Emily replied firmly.

“Is it because he didn’t come to the birth?” I asked, wanting to understand her perspective.

“Yes, even though I told him how important it was for me. Instead, he wanted his sister, who hates me and always belittles me, to be there. I didn’t want her there in such a vulnerable moment, but she came anyway,” Emily said, her voice shaking with emotion.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

This information changed everything. “I understand you, but maybe you could forgive him? I can suggest a family therapy session. After all, he wasn’t just sitting at home; he was helping his mother, who had an accident.”

Emily looked at me sharply. “Is that what he told you? He was helping his ex-girlfriend move because she was relocating.”

Oh my God, what a nightmare, I thought. This was why I decided to talk to Emily; I knew Colin wasn’t telling me everything. “Colin also complained that your friend was there,” I said, trying to remain neutral.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Toby, yes. We’ve been friends since third grade, and there’s never been anything romantic between us, but I trust him. That’s why I asked him to take me. Besides, he lives closer than Colin’s sister,” Emily explained.

“Have you tried talking to Colin about this?” I asked, feeling the tension in the room.

“I tried, but he doesn’t listen. He says he’s apologized a hundred times for not being at the birth. But he did it just to hear me say I’m not angry. I can’t trust my child to someone who doesn’t care about me. How can I know he cares about our son?” Emily said, tears welling up in her eyes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Have you considered leaving?” I asked, sensing her desperation.

“I have, but I don’t have a job or money. I’m financially dependent on Colin,” Emily admitted, looking down.

“Did you know his sister was on FaceTime with Colin the whole time you were in labor?” I asked, feeling the need to share this piece of information.

“What? No, that’s horrible. I didn’t even notice her,” Emily said, her face paling.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Emily, if you really want to leave him, I can help you,” I said, offering her a lifeline.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening with hope.

“Yes, you can’t raise a child in such conditions,” I said firmly.

Half an hour later, Emily and her son’s belongings were in my car. I was glad I had come to see her and heard her side. I hoped I could help them find a better path.

The drive back to my office was quiet, but I felt a sense of purpose. This was why I became a psychologist, to help people like Emily find the strength to change their lives.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: One evening, I agreed to look after my best friend’s son, and that night changed my life forever. What I discovered made me see my surroundings in a completely different light. How can I now cope with the revelations that have shattered my trust in those closest to me? Read the full story here.

A Note from the Delivery Guy Made Me Install Security Cameras around My House – I’ll Forever Be Grateful to Him

The delivery guy’s scribbled note sent me rushing to my backyard trash cans, where I discovered something chilling. His cryptic warning may have saved my family from a terrifying fate, but the danger was far from over.

I often order food delivery when I’m too tired to cook for my kids. Over time, we grew close to Ravi, the delivery guy in our area. He’d always chat with Kai and Isla, high-fiving them before leaving. But last Tuesday night was different.

A food delivery man saddling up on his motorcycle | Source: Pexels

A food delivery man saddling up on his motorcycle | Source: Pexels

When Ravi arrived, he seemed very nervous. Fidgety. He shoved the food into my hands and bolted back to his car without a word.

“What’s up with Ravi?” Kai asked, peering out the window.

I shrugged, watching Ravi’s tail lights disappear down the street. “No idea, buddy. Maybe he’s in a hurry.”

As I brought the food into the kitchen, still puzzled by Ravi’s behavior, I noticed something on the back of the bag. Scrawled in shaky handwriting was a message that made me forget about dinner entirely.

Helpings of fast food laid out on a table | Source: Pexels

Helpings of fast food laid out on a table | Source: Pexels

“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN”

I set the food down and turned to my kids. “Hey, why don’t you two go wash up? I’ll get everything ready.”

Once they were out of sight, I bolted to the backyard. The message kept repeating in my head as I approached our trash cans. My hands shook as I lifted the lid of the first one.

A brightly-colored trash can in a backyard | Source: Pexels

A brightly-colored trash can in a backyard | Source: Pexels

Nothing unusual. Just our regular garbage. I moved to the second can, dread building with each step. I threw open the lid and froze.

Inside, wrapped in an old, dirty blanket, was a collection of gloves and what looked like a few small tools. At the bottom sat a bottle without a label, filled with some kind of liquid.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Isla’s voice startled me.

I slammed the lid shut and spun around, forcing a smile. “Yeah, sweetie. Just… checking something. Go on inside, I’ll be right there.”

A woman closing a trash can in a backyard at night | Source: Midjourney

A woman closing a trash can in a backyard at night | Source: Midjourney

As soon as Isla was gone, I pulled out my phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.

“Sheriff’s Department, this is Leona speaking.”

“Leona, it’s Nora. I need you to come over right away. I found something concerning in my trash.”

“Slow down, Nora. What exactly did you find?”

I described the contents of the trash can, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t touch anything,” Leona said, her tone serious. “I’m on my way. Stay inside with your kids until I get there.”

A police officer on a call in a precinct | Source: Midjourney

A police officer on a call in a precinct | Source: Midjourney

I hung up and headed back inside. Our neighborhood had recently experienced a string of break-ins, all with eerily similar methods. Chemicals used to weaken locks, meticulous clean-up of any evidence.

It hit me: my house was being set up for the next break-in.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Kai asked as I entered the kitchen. “You look scared.”

I forced another smile. “Everything’s fine, honey. Let’s eat dinner, okay?”

A woman setting dinner for children at a table | Source: Pexels

A woman setting dinner for children at a table | Source: Pexels

We’d barely started eating when there was a knock at the door. I jumped up, but was relieved when I saw Leona through the peephole.

“Kids, stay here and finish your dinner,” I said, stepping outside to talk to Leona.

She listened intently as I recounted finding the items and Ravi’s strange behavior.

“You did the right thing calling me,” Leona said, her eyes scanning the street. “I’ll take a look at what’s in your trash and get it to the lab. In the meantime, I strongly recommend you beef up your security. Also, we’ll patrol the house all night, so in case they re-tool and still try to break in, we’ll nab them red-handed.”

A police officer smiling | Source: Pexels

A police officer smiling | Source: Pexels

I nodded, already planning my next move. “I’ll call a security company first thing in the morning.”

Leona placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Try to get some rest, Nora. We’ll figure this out.”

But sleep was the last thing on my mind that night. I spent hours researching security systems, jumping at every little sound outside. By morning, I was a jittery mess of caffeine and anxiety.

A woman working on a laptop computer at night | Source: Pexels

A woman working on a laptop computer at night | Source: Pexels

As soon as it hit 8 a.m., I called the first security company on my list. “Hi, I need cameras installed around my house. Today, if possible.”

“Ma’am, our earliest available slot is next week —”

“You don’t understand,” I cut in, my voice cracking. “I think someone’s planning to break into my home. I need those cameras now.”

There must’ve been something in my tone because the receptionist’s voice softened. “Let me see what I can do. Can you hold for a moment?”

A woman on a call in a work environment | Source: Pexels

A woman on a call in a work environment | Source: Pexels

After what felt like an eternity, she came back on the line. “We’ve had a cancellation. Our team can be there in two hours. Will that work?”

I nearly cried with relief. “Yes, thank you. Thank you so much.”

The next few hours were a blur. I called in sick to work, kept the kids home from school, and paced the house until the security team arrived.

A security camera installed on a wall | Source: Pexels

A security camera installed on a wall | Source: Pexels

As they worked, installing cameras and explaining the system to me, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every car that drove by, every person walking their dog, they all seemed suspicious now.

Just as the security team was finishing up, Leona’s patrol car pulled into my driveway. She got out, her face grim.

“Nora, can we talk inside?”

A parked police patrol vehicle | Source: Pexels

A parked police patrol vehicle | Source: Pexels

My stomach lurched as I led her into the house. “Kids, why don’t you go play in your rooms for a bit?”

Once they were out of earshot, Leona spoke. “The lab results came back on those items we found. The liquid in the bottle? It’s a powerful corrosive, often used to weaken locks.”

I sank onto the couch, my legs suddenly weak. “So it’s true. They were planning to break in.”

Leona nodded. “It looks that way. But Nora, you’ve done everything right. You’ve got cameras now, you’re aware of the threat. We’re increasing patrols in the area too.”

A policewoman discussing something in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A policewoman discussing something in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“What about Ravi?” I asked. “Should I talk to him?”

“If you see him, yes. But be careful. We don’t know if he’s involved or just an observant bystander.”

As if on cue, I spotted Ravi pulling up to my neighbor’s house. “He’s here now,” I said, moving to the window.

Leona joined me. “Go talk to him. I’ll watch from here.”

I stepped outside, my pulse racing. Ravi was just getting back onto his bike when he saw me.

A delivery man astride a motorcycle | Source: Pexels

A delivery man astride a motorcycle | Source: Pexels

“Hey,” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Got a minute?”

Ravi hesitated, then nodded. As he approached, I could see the tension in his shoulders.

“Look,” he said before I could speak, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I should’ve said something, but I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.

A woman having a conversation with someone in a front yard | Source: Midjourney

A woman having a conversation with someone in a front yard | Source: Midjourney

Ravi glanced around nervously. “After I parked, I saw these guys messing with your trash. They looked not good, you know? I wanted to warn you, but I was afraid they might still be around.”

I was so relieved. “That’s why you left the note?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Ravi,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You might have saved my family. Thank you.”

A profile view of a woman talking to someone unseen | Source: Midjourney

A profile view of a woman talking to someone unseen | Source: Midjourney

His shoulders relaxed a bit. “Really? You’re not mad?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. In fact, I owe you big time.”

As Ravi drove away, I felt grateful but also a little afraid. The threat wasn’t over, but at least now I knew we weren’t facing it alone.

Back inside, Leona was on her phone, talking in hushed tones. She hung up as I approached.

“We’ve got some leads based the description Ravi gave us ,” she said. “We’ll catch these guys, Nora. Just stay vigilant.”

A police officer talking on a mobile phone in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A police officer talking on a mobile phone in a living room | Source: Midjourney

That night, after tucking Kai and Isla into bed, I sat in front of the new security monitors. The cameras showed empty streets and quiet yards, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere out there, someone was watching, waiting for their chance.

I thought about Ravi’s quick thinking, Leona’s dedication, and my own newfound strength. Whatever came next, we’d face it together. For now, all I could do was watch and wait, grateful for the unexpected allies who’d helped keep my family safe.

A woman looking aside thoughtfully | Source: Pexels

A woman looking aside thoughtfully | Source: Pexels

What would you have done? If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you about neighbors who installed a camera aimed at a woman’s garden, but she taught them a savage lesson without going to court.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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